


We'd Probably Explode

by Petalene



Series: Ineffable Husbands Bingo [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Accidental Sex, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Husbands Bingo, M/M, Smut, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 10:57:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20599628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petalene/pseuds/Petalene
Summary: Someone one the kink meme suggested that if Aziraphale were to possess Crowley's body, the resulting explosion would be a messy, messy orgasm. Exactly what it says on the tin.





	We'd Probably Explode

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for Ineffable Husbands Bingo square - smut. 
> 
> original prompt - https://good-omens-kink.dreamwidth.org/616.html?thread=3944

“Same again.” Crowley holds up the empty bottle. Alcohol burns as he drains his glass while the bartender walks over with a new bottle, setting it down without a word. The pub is dark and gloomy. Or it might be his mood which is definitely dark and gloomy.

“I never asked to be a demon,” he says to no one in particular. “I was just minding my own business one day and then ah, lookie here it’s Lucifer and the guys. Oh, hey, the food hasn’t been that good lately. I didn’t have anything on for the rest of the afternoon. Next thing, I’m doing a million-light-year freestyle dive into a pool of boiling sulphur.” 

He’s not going to cry. He’s not. Besides, the sunglasses hide the tears in his eyes. The heavy warmth in his body in combination with the almost floaty feeling in his head means he’s drunk. Very, very drunk. Drunk is better than crying about how Aziraphale is dead and life isn’t worth living. 

A crash of thunder, a flash of lightning and Aziraphale appears in the chair across from Crowley. 

“Aziraphale?” Oh shit. Crowley must be completely pissed if he’s seeing Aziraphale transparent and rippling like he’s made of water. And in a stupid bar he wouldn’t be caught dead in. 

Wait a minute. 

“Are you here?” Crowley lifts his sunglasses, squinting through the drunken haze.

“Good question. Not certain. Never done this before. Can you hear me?”

The glasses fall back on Crowley’s nose. “Of course I can hear you!” He clenches his fist to keep from reaching out and trying to touch. It doesn’t matter that Aziraphale is probably a hallucination, Crowley wants him whatever way he can get. 

“Afraid I’ve rather made a mess of things,” Aziraphale says. Like reappearing after dying is perfectly normal and he’s discussing where they should do lunch. “Did you go to Alpha Centauri?”

“Nah, I changed my mind. Stuff happened. I lost my best friend.” Crowley’s voice cracks and he scrunches his face and swallows to keep from sobbing.. 

“So sorry to hear it,” Aziraphale says with a little frown. “Listen, back in my bookshop there’s a book I need you to get.”

Crowley can’t lie. Not about this. “Oh, look, your bookshop isn’t there anymore.”

Aziraphale’s face falls. “Oh?”

Crowley’s heart breaks a little more. “I’m really sorry. It burned down.” That lovely little bookshop where they drank and laughed and Aziraphale did his best not to let people purchase his books. It’s all gone. 

“All of it?”

“Yeah,” Crowley stammers. “What-what was the book?”

“The one the young lady with the bicycle left behind. The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of-”

“Agnes Nutter! Yes, I took it!”

“You have it?”

Crowley holds up the book triumphantly. “Look, souvenir!” Finally, he did something right.

“Look inside. I made notes. It’s all in there. The boy’s name, address. Everything else. I worked it all out.”

Looking over the top of his glasses, the paper is covered in Azirphale’s neat handwriting. If Crowley weren’t so wasted, he’d have thought of this sooner. “Wherever you are, I’ll come to you. Where are you?” There has to be a way to get to his angel. 

“I-I-I’m not really anywhere. I’ve been discorporated.”

“Oh.” It’s over. Crowley can’t go to Heaven and he will never ask Aziraphale to come to Hell. He’s never going to see his best friend. Ever again. 

“You need to get to Tadfield Airbase,” Aziraphale says. 

“Why?”

“World ending. That’s where it’s all happening. Quite soon now. I’ll head there, too. I just need to find a receptive body. Harder than you think.”

“I’m not going to go there.” Crowley wants to go there. He really, really wants to go there. Who wouldn’t want Aziraphale inside of them?

“I do need a body. Pity I can’t inhabit yours.”

Crowley intends to say that Aziraphale can share his body forever if it means that he won’t leave, but all that comes out is, “Blegh.”

“Angel, demon. Probably explode.”

Crowley can’t do this without Aziraphale. Can’t stop the apocalypse. Can’t save the world. Can’t summon the will to go on living. At least this way they can die together if - when - it doesn’t work. 

“No we wouldn’t explode,” Crowley says quickly. “It’ll be fine.”

Aziraphale frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Hundred percent.” Hundred percent that they both end up discorporated, more like, but then they can be together forever in death. Like Romeo and Juliet because that fucker Billy understood tragic love better than Crowley ever has. 

“Well, if you say so.” Aziraphale ghosts through the table and sinks into Crowley. 

Crowley’s jaw drops. Oh Lucifer, Aziraphale is inside him. The realization of how monumental a mistake this is hits when every nerve tingles. He can feel Aziraphale everywhere. And love. So much love, all the love Aziraphale feels for Crowley. It merges with Crowley’s love for Aziraphale and becomes a vast, deep ocean of light that Crowley could drown in. 

“I’m your best friend?” Aziraphale asks, the words coming out of Crowley’s mouth in Aziraphale’s voice.

“Always loved you,” Crowley whimpers. “Since the beginning.”

Aziraphale shifts and the more he moves, the more intense everything gets. 

Sex is the joining of two bodies, but this is the joining of two souls. Crowley closes his eyes, his breathing shifts into ragged pants. Spreading his legs to relieve the pressure on his hardening dick doesn’t help. “Can’t stop it,” he moans in surprise. “Gonna come.”

Pleasure licks along his veins. It’s right there and Crowley shoots off so hard it would have taken years off his life if he were human. He sags back in the chair after, too boneless to move. His pants are a sticky, wet mess. Heaven, after that, Crowley’s not certain he’s still corporeal.

No, he’s still corporeal and it isn’t over. Teasing sensations stroke along his skin, his nipples, his cock. It’s a small spark that quickly becomes an inferno, like standing in hellfire. Instead of all-consuming heat, it’s blazing desire. The intensity on his oversensitive body almost hurts. Except it’s Aziraphale causing this and Crowley’s wanted it forever. Aziraphale is inside him and Crowley won’t tell him to stop. 

Crowley bangs his head on the table and leaves it there as he shudders through a second orgasm. People whisper and stare, probably wondering what’s wrong with him and Crowley can’t be arsed to care. He’s still emotionally overloaded and more drunk than sober. Aziraphale died and now they’re in public having sex that’s more intimate and sacred than the transubstantiation of the first communion. 

The third orgasm hits almost immediately after. Crowley twists his head to the side so his cheek rests against the table. A whispered word escapes his lips. “Aziraphale.” 

The intensity slowly dissipates into aftershocks that leave Crowley’s legs trembling and his body twitching.

For the first time since Crowley saw the bookshop on fire, his mind clears. Blearily opening his eyes reveals several pub patrons staring at him with expressions ranging from concern to disgust to interest. His fingers snap, must be Aziraphale because Crowley is never moving again, and the curious people lose interest and wander back to their drinks. 

“What just happened?” Aziraphale asks.

Crowley doesn’t know which of them is causing the shaky sound to the words. Maybe both?

“Pretty sure we just had angelic sex,” Crowley says in his normal voice. “So that was-” amazing, life-changing, everything “-a thing that happened. Hope you’re not too angry. Are you okay in there?”

“Yes, I’m fine and of course I’m not mad. I could tell you were just as shocked as I was. Are you okay?”

For someone who just had drunk, accidental sex with the angel he’s been in love with forever, Crowley’s not panicking as much as he should. Between the lingering alcohol in his system and the rush of the orgasms, it’s not a lie when he says, “I’m okay.” He can always panic later if they survive the apocalypse. If they don’t, no need to get worked up over it.

“You should have told me,” Aziraphale says. 

“That I love you? Didn’t want to corrupt you and make you fall.”

“If I didn’t fall after that, I’m not sure I *can* fall.” Aziraphale flexes, wiggling around. “Pity I can’t check my wings right now. I think they’re still pristinely white.”

The movement makes Crowley’s eyes roll back in his head. At least he’s not going to come in his pants again. Yet. It probably won’t take much. For now, he’s wrung out enough that he can cope. And he’s pretty sure there’s nothing left to come out after that last orgasm.

Because he’s an ass, Crowley asks, “Was it good for you, angel?”

“It wasn’t exactly what I expected. Might be easier if I was in a different body.” 

Crowley has never admitted it, but it was always Aziraphale for him or no one. Assuming spiritually merging with your best friend and having orgasms counts as sex, he’s no longer a virgin even Aziraphale hasn’t technically physically touched him. “I have no idea, Angel. That was my first time with someone else.”

Aziraphale sits them up sending a shiver down Crowley’s spine. 

“I always assumed....”

Crowley hisses loud enough that several people side-eye them. “What? That because I’m a demon I must be fucking any and every human I can tempt?”

“No,” Aziraphale says softly. “Why would you want me when you could have anyone?”

“Why would I want anyone else when you exist?”

Crowley’s lips pull up into a smile. 

It’s weird that it’s a genuinely cheerful smile and not a smirk. All Crowley wants is to bury his face in Aziraphale’s neck and inhale or taste with his snake tongue. It’s beyond fucked up that he’s thinking about post-coital cuddling while Aziraphale is camped out in his body and the world is about to end. 

“We can save the world, I know we can. This isn’t the end,” Aziraphale says confidently. “We have the book. There has to be a reason it survived.”

An hour ago, Crowley was drinking himself into oblivion so he could numbly watch as the world disintegrated around him. Fifteen minutes ago, he was content to permanently discorporate if that was the only way he and Aziraphale could be together.

Now Crowley has a reason to live. With Aziraphale on his team and in his body, they can figure this out. There has to be a way. They didn’t survive all of this to simply give up. And if they can’t get Aziraphale a suitable body, they can share Crowley’s and still be together. 

The battle is going to happen in Tadfield and it’s time to save the world. 

After a shower. Because Crowley’s pants are so gross right now. 

\- THE END -

Thanks for reading and hope you enjoyed it. Comments and kudos are love 


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